One Week Later

We've been, in what I can only describe as, a strange time warp.

For the last week, we've had little to no contact with others besides family and the funeral home. In any other scenario, one might think, wow, how lucky. People bring you all your meals, you don't have to work, you have so much time with family. But I don't feel lucky. 

My brain has re-entered a state of denial. 

Yesterday, my mom was looking for something my dad had borrowed. I almost asked, "Did you ask Daddy where it is?" 

Collecting and choosing photos to display also makes me think we're preparing for a surprise birthday party. 

My dad would have been 60 next March.

It doesn't really feel like he's gone sometimes. Sometimes it just feels like he's left the house to do his work, or to garden. As my mom says, you could convince yourself he's just away in Taiwan for a few months. And then life is...normal. We'll see him again soon.

But these things aren't true. It isn't until you think about how he won't grow old with my mom, or celebrate another birthday, or meet your grandchildren, that you realize that he's gone. Our dad won't walk Melissa down the aisle or make a speech at her wedding, he won't teach Timothy how to drive. 

I don't think I'm ready to re-enter the world after this weekend's service. I've kinda liked this bubble that we've been in. We don't have to explain anything, we don't have to tell people how we feel, we don't have to graciously accept people's pity.  

I heard in some TED talk somewhere that grief is not something you get over or get through or move on from. But in fact something that you carry with you as you move forward. 

So I guess that's what comes next - we'll leave the safety of my parent's home, we'll have the funeral services this weekend, we'll go back to Houston next week, and somehow we'll find a way to move forward.